


Half-Baked

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [140]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Babysitting, Blood and Injury, Chance Meetings, Conditioning, Depression, Developing Friendships, Domestic Violence, First Kiss, HYDRA Husbands, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Pre-Relationship, Protective Bucky Barnes, Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28097529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: When Brock gets out of the hospital after another incident with his boyfriend, he finds all his stuff has been thrown out on the lawn and he's forced to move in with Bucky and Steve.A few days later, still feeling like crap but physically recovering well, he decides to venture out of the house over a craving for Ben and Jerry's. There was just one problem: some guy with a scar on his face got the last one.This leads Brock to one conclusion, the world is out to get him.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [140]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/547894
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24
Collections: Marvel Big Bang 2020





	Half-Baked

**Author's Note:**

> The art was created by the awesome [Taste_is_Sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet/) who also gave me the title idea so thank you for that! <3! She's wonderful and super great, please check out her work and give her some love! 
> 
> So, this fic has been sitting in my WIP folder for about two years asking to be finished and finally, I did it. Hopefully you all enjoy it and please heed the domestic violence warning in tags which is the first scene with Brock/OMC. 
> 
> So long, and thanks for all the fish :3

  


“You do this to yourself, you realize that?”

Brock should be used to it by now and yet he’s not.

It always plays out the good way or it plays out the bad way. Today is a bad way.

There’s no strike of booming noise, or shout, nor the fast, angry sounds of footsteps approaching. His dad was always like that, could easily hear him before he was inside the house, and maybe Brock was lucky enough to mentally prepare for the onslaught coming his way. There’s nothing that could have warned Brock of the twist of fury winding its way through the front door of the house towards him.

When he feels the smothering sensation of someone behind him, he barely has time to turn before fingers tangle in his hair and pull hard enough to tear strands from the scalp, dragging him back from the sink, or the couch or wherever else he was stationed at for that moment. 

This time he’s at the table, a hand scrambling at the one at the back of his hair and Brock’s thrown off balance and nearly slips under socked feet and smooth wood, catching himself as he tries to pull and twist away. In response to the resistance his face is slammed into the china hutch, nose hitting hard into the framework as the glass gives in way too easily under his hands and he can already feel it before the blood flows.

“Mike- ” Brock tries, as he attempts to breathe out of his mouth. His nose is broken again, air noisily slipping in and out through spongy cartilage, too slick; fingers drag him off the furniture, jagged bits of glass still in the frame shredding his arms.

Mike says nothing, he never says anything before the second blow, he’s just getting warmed up.

The hand that isn’t in his hair grasps painfully around his bicep, forcefully thrusting him out of the dining area and up the stairs. Every time he’s held this way it feels so exceptionally wrong. More than what’s happening and fingers bruising into his skin, it’s the way Mike’s breathing comes out harshly through his nose and how he says not one word to him while being manhandled like back when he was only a kid.

Brock stumbles a few steps in, his chin bounces off one stair, the sharp wood cutting into skin as he’s yanked back to his feet and he forces himself to concentrate on his legs while he analyzes his boyfriend’s composure. Too calm and missing all the rage he has when he’s normally around and wound up in a frenzy. It’s missing all the seething fury of a bully wanting to unleash hell down on him and enjoying every second of it, insulting and sneering as every word cuts deeper and deeper. This Mike though? He doesn’t breathe a word to him and that terrifies Brock to no end as he realizes those tell-tale signs that cause him to panic. It may not have happened the first time, or the twentieth time but there’s always a chance to change things, to alter thoughts and maybe this time is the last straw.

Maybe this time, Mike would actually kill him.

Brock attempts to stop their route to the bedroom, he’s been in this scenario a few times, enough to know where it’s going. Either the closet or the ensuite bathroom, one or the other was going to be where he was going to end up and neither were where Brock wanted to be. He scrambles to tear himself from Mike’s grip and while he can jostle the hold on his arm, fingers only tangle tighter into his hair and dots of pain dance across Brock’s vision while tears well in his eyes.

He manages to twist, his own hands grasp at the fabric of his boyfriend’s shirt but Brock finds himself frozen to the expression staring back at him. Dead eyes looking practically through him, too stoic and cold, jaw clenched seemingly harder at the act of rebellion and Mike makes a guttural noise over it while Brock wonders who’s checked in while the person he’s in love with has completely checked out.

The moment is barely a fraction of a second and reality pulls Brock back as he struggles to get out of the iron-grip once more. They both stagger and struggle but the moment is fleeting when Brock’s heart is never in it to fight back; later if he’s still alive, he’ll be pissed off at himself but right now he can’t and he’s only pissing Mike off more in the process because they both know this dance already.

Mike’s fist connects with his nose, the pulpy, wet sound that’s transmitted back to his ears causes a lurch in his stomach. He’s pushed back into the hallway wall and his head bounces off it like a rag doll, the backhand coming in before he has the chance to open his eyes and it splits his lip open like always. 

The hand finally releases his hair and he’s bodily moved sideways, his mind trying to assess damage and how much blood splatter he’ll have to get off the walls and carpet. He’s sure his skull’s left a nice dent that’ll need to be fixed and he’s shoved unceremoniously to the ground while a kick nails him square in the ribs. Another one is thrown in for good measure because Mike liked making sure he was thorough. They’ll break easily, he’s counting on it.

The moment Brock fully crumples while his back collides with the carpeting, Mike is on him again, knee pressing down with his full weight into his diaphragm and it’s what stops Brock from getting his breath back. He opens his mouth to say stop, to utter something only to see Mike’s hand press over it, silencing any protest as fingers grip painfully into the shallow of his cheek and the side of his palm recklessly presses into his already broken nose. It takes a moment to actually feel his head pull up only to have it bounce off the soft fibres underneath him and he can barely hold back the groan of pain, his nose inhaling the scent of blood, nostrils running with it as his head is struck back into the floor again. 

He’s beginning to see stars, almost like the ones he saw on his first date, eyes nearly roll back as he’s slammed a few more times before Mike has enough and lets him go, the expression of disgust not lost as he glares down at him. His boyfriend breathes over him, fists pressed against his shoulders and Brock thinks it's over and he’s gotten out all his rage.

He should know better.

“Overbearing?” Brock hears Mike relay to him in a low, shaking voice and the question makes his stomach drop. “ _ ‘I have to go finish up before he gets home or else he gets a little overbearing.’ _ Who gets like that, huh Brock?”

“Mike- ”

Brock doesn’t get very far in his road to reasoning with him before he’s yanked off the floor by the collar of his shirt and dragged through into the bedroom. The sudden lurches and movements make Brock sick, his head spinning as the edges of his sight begin to get hazy. The room twists and turns in all angles around him and he drops onto his front with a hard thud, Mike grabbing at his face to make sure he was still looking up at him.

“Is that what you tell all your friends when you go out with them, Brock? That I undermine your every move and if you don’t listen I get upset? Is that what we are to each other?”

“Mike, stop- ”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Mike- ” he repeats, because he doesn’t know what else to say that might bring him back to his senses.

The fist colliding with his already bruising black eye makes him clam up completely, a hand blindly gasping at his boyfriend’s wrist, but Mike easily pulls himself loose.

“Don’t tell me what to do. You don't get to decide when we're done, _I_ fucking decide.” Mike seethes out bitterly. It’s strange to hear him curse, always poking fun at Brock over how much he does it, saying it was something he didn’t like doing himself.

How many more times were they going to go around like this?

Brock couldn’t help wondering if things would get worse before they got better. They were bound to get better.

He can feel the soft tremor in his hands hoping the lack of protest will get all this to stop but instead he’s dragged across the room again, not to the bed where he sometimes is sent to and it's kind of a relief in a way, though this time he’s sliding across the cold tiles of the connecting bathroom. He swallows down the heavy wave of nausea that goes with it as he’s dropped against the mouth of the tub, the side of his head bumping against the edge and he winces, gently resting against it again when he can.

“Fine. If you can’t find a good answer now, I’ll give you some time to fucking think about it.”

It takes a long moment for him to realize as he laid out against cold tile that the water was running and filling the tub. He tenses, tries to push away when Mike approaches him but he’s kicked in the stomach this time. Rough hands haul him back on his knees, one moving to grab him by the hair and there’s a sharp pain in his back from the edge of the tub digging in before his head is thrust back. Brock scrambles to brace himself for another hit but finds nothing but legs before him, his hands snatching at the material but also trying to push them away. The more he struggles though, the more aggressively he’s handled, tub edge digging harder into his spine and he has to grit his teeth to stop himself from crying out. 

“Look at you, can’t even keep your damn face clean.” Mike murmurs low, leaning so close that Brock can feel his hot breath against his cheek.

His boyfriend presses some of his weight against his chest, forcing him to bend back unnaturally, the hand holding firmly to his hair as he’s directed under the force of the water. Brock struggles to breathe, coughing up and sputtering mouthfuls in surprise, panicking and clawing at Mike.

He’s only pressed harder under the spray. “No, no, I can’t let you go on lying about me. I decide when you breathe, then maybe it’ll get through your thick skull that you should think before opening your fucking mouth.” 

With one hard pull, his temple collided with the mouth of the faucet but the water had ceased trying to drown him and he drew in a few quick, frantic breaths, laughter ringing in his ears.

“You’ve got no understanding of me, Brock. You fucked up. You got yourself into this mess, so remember that. I’m the only one who can get you out of it and you better believe I’m not fucking done yet.”

Mike let his head go and it dangled back against the inside of the tub, water licking at the edges of his hair. He coughed up some water, lungs on fire. “You ain’t gotta..threaten me, Mike..”

A hand pressed to his throat, palm pressing hard as fingers unapologetically pressed in to bruise and the sharp pressure of his knee much too close to his solar plexus. “People who love each other don’t make threats, Brock. They make promises.”

Brock realized he was going back and forth from unconsciousness to consciousness but now the dots danced before his eyes all too readily, the edges of his sight growing blurred and when he’s shoved under the water again he wonders why he really wasn’t fighting back.

“Nobody cares, Brock. Nobody gives a shit about you, not even your friends. Stay under there, it’ll be better for everyone.”

Brock barely lets out a moan, water filling his mouth but his hands have fallen slack to his sides and he just can’t anymore. Maybe today is the day he’s finally done with everything. Maybe Mike’s right, echoing words from his childhood. He can’t find himself to bother..

*****

Brock gets out of the hospital just to find all his shit tossed out on the front lawn the second his friends intervened for the last time and he was given the boot because they did. 

He would have felt embarrassed about it all if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s too numb from the drugs and mainly just accepts when Bucky and Steve tell him he’s staying with them. At the house he lets Bucky lead him around while he attempts not to drool on himself or ruin his and Steve’s nice furniture. All that keeps playing in his head as days roll on is that he thought he was dead and the first time he opened his eyes to all the white walls in his hospital room he wondered if he actually made it to some kind of heaven. 

Eventually he finds out he was dumped at the emergency and supposes Mike didn’t want a murder on his hands, which makes sense. His friends find out because Pegs works as a nurse and one thing leads to another and now he’s the one that’s got a restraining order against him as well as some friends of his. It’s alright, maybe it’s for the best. He just wants some fucking peace and quiet anyway.

It takes a couple of days to realize he’s really homeless without Steve and Bucky’s direct action for it to really sink in, and that he’s sleeping in his friend’s spare room with only a handful of things they managed to salvage while the rest was scavenged by strangers or too broken to recover. 

He has no money saved up since he was paying the bills and rent already but he really doesn’t want to be staying here and being a bother. He is thankful, he is, but he can’t escape the sensation of eyes boring into him while friends tell him how sorry they are for his situation. Brock can’t take that. He’s already so fucking embarrassed over not having the balls to leave in the first place or put that asshole in a coma with his own two hands. Of course he’s also had a few others also offering to do that too for him once they found out the exact story but that was the reason some of them had restraining orders actively on them. As much as it would feel great, Brock doesn’t want more trouble. He just wants to cut himself loose entirely and keep it that way. He still has his job too, that’s a blessing in itself after all the hospital time.

It’s five in the morning when his phone starts going off to an unknown number. He’s been in front of the bathroom mirror examining some of the bruises that were beginning to fade and without thinking he answers the call.

Brock slowly finds himself staring at the shirtless reflection of himself for a few long seconds before hanging up the phone. He goes back to bed, only to find he can’t get himself to sleep so he lays back and stares at the ceiling waiting for the sun to come up. He can’t figure out any of this shit and he hates it.

*****

All Brock wants today is buy his favorite ice cream and to eat it in bed and be a depressed sack of shit while no one bothers him all night. It’s all he asks for as he trudges through the freezer aisle and notes a couple of people peering at prices and various flavor choices to other company labels. Someone before him is inside the door he needs to get to and taking a pint of Ben & Jerry’s before placing it into the basket hanging off their elbow and walking off. The man’s tall, features striking in a way from what he can see when he turns his head just a little to check his basket, a scar cutting through his scruff and it’s all Brock picks up before the person’s turned the corner towards the dairy section and Brock returns to the task at hand, fingers wrapping around the warmed handle of the freezer door as he pulls it open.

His eyes quickly spy the ice cream label of his favorite and tries to find the one he came for, an over the top concoction of fudge brownie and peanut butter he would usually steer clear of if he didn’t want to pack on the pounds but it was a damn emergency. There was a label but the space was empty, jarring him into some expanse of disbelief. It was then that his brain helpfully supplied a playback of tall, dark and possibly handsome picking up the last tub and placing it into his basket.

“Fuck.”

Usually Brock wouldn’t care. He’d switch to an alternative or go get whatever he was craving for at another store, but unfortunately this was the only store as far as he knew that carried that specific flavor of ice cream from B&J and he really needed it today.

He took off down the aisle and headed the same way the man went, scouring the dairy section until he finally found him examining blocks of butter casually like he had nothing better to do. He probably didn’t either, the jackass. Gathering up some energy to get into it with a complete stranger over ice cream, he pulled himself up a bit straighter and marched towards him.

“Hey.”

The man glances up in surprise to the greeting, his face quickly shifting to something undecipherable when he gives Brock a once over without even hiding it. Okay so the guy was handsome too, he may have been doing the same thing but at least he was more subtle about it and besides this wasn’t about finding a casual hook up in a grocery store. This was all business..about ice cream.

“Yeah?”

If Brock  _ was _ looking, the voice alone would have got him; rich and deep, his brain already going to various thoughts about how it would sound better with the lights out and them with significantly less clothing on. Instead he began to feel the chill of open humming fridges and gestured to the basket the guy was holding, “You got the last Peanut Butter Half Baked.”

Perplexed now, the stranger looks down at his items and then nods, glancing back at him. “Yeah, and?”

“I need it.” Brock blurts out before he could even fathom coming up with a convincing lie about a kid sister crying for it in the car or a girlfriend needing it because she was on her period or something. 

Brows came together as the guy thought for a moment and simple gestures shouldn’t have looked so good on this guy. “ _ You _ need it?”

“That’s what I said. I need it. Look- ” He tugs out his wallet from his back pocket and pulls out a ten, holding it out to him. “I’ll buy it off ya for double the price, I’ve jus been havin’ a shit day and I- ”

“Yeah, me too.” The man interrupts as he goes back to looking at the butter. “Which is why I’m not giving it up.”

He knew any normal person would have given up, let it go because this guy was at the ice cream first but Brock’s desperate and he has to get his hands on it no matter how bad he looks. His phone chimes in his pocket and he retrieves it just to find another message from Mike on his weird random new number asking if he wanted to come over and that bile in Brock’s stomach begins to work itself up his throat again. What’s worse is that he’s considering it, no one was home and maybe they could actually talk after the whole fiasco even if he knows better than that. It’s where the ice cream came into play, that and some alcohol to knock him out with.

By the time he mentally came back to earth the stranger’s made it down to the bakery area picking up a loaf of bread as Brock jogs after him. “Come on, I’ll give ya a twenty fer it, I’ve jus been outta a bad breakup and he wants me to come over and I don’t wanna. All I need is to get some ice cream, a bottle of wine and hide out til my friends come home, alright?”

Fuck, it sounded more pathetic coming out of his mouth than what it seems like in his head, the man stopping to raise his brows slightly like he’s thinking and that’s..progress, right? Someone thinking about it gives him a better window than them walking off. 

Slowly his expression shifts to a slow smirk and Brock’s caught off guard by it. “You could come over to my place if you want some.” 

_ Some _ isn’t explicitly clarified, was it for ice cream or something that definitely wasn’t something Brock was willing to offer up to this guy? Well, for a split microsecond he thinks about it but has enough self respect to shove the thought away. He does want that ice cream though, so he bites the bullet. “Yeah, fine. I’ll come back to yer place, fer ice cream.”

He’s a little too satisfied by the way the stranger’s face does about six different reactions of surprise before schooling back to something more neutral and giving him a nod and a smile. “I guess I’m finished here, are you going to leave your car here or follow me?”

They’re actually doing this? Brock walks alongside this asshole wondering if he should activate his phone’s location and slips into self check out for the couple of things he did want to take with him. “I’ll follow ya.”

They make it to the parking lot before they both stop and look at each other.

“So, we’re really doing this?”

Brock should leave at this point but he’s gone this far and all he’s got back home is loneliness and self pity, on top of Mike’s texts telling him to make clearly bad decisions. It’s what encourages him; if his ex is the bad idea, this can’t be all that bad. “Yeah, I told ya. I want that ice cream.”

A hand awkwardly juts out and Brock stares at it. 

“Jack. If you’re going to be stubborn enough to have ice cream at my apartment, the least I can do is introduce myself.”

Brock would’ve been fine with calling him the stranger or the asshole, he’s already been playing chicken with him and look how far he’s gotten. Pleasantries were unneeded; on the other hand though, he was pretty good looking. He took it just because he  _ was _ going to his house, Jack coulda been inviting a serial killer for all he knew. “Brock. Lead the way.”

*****

Brock readies himself for every dark corner turn in case someone’s lurking in wait and to be highly visible for any camera he comes across in the open parkade as well as the one to the front door. When they enter the apartment three floors up, it looks neat and pretty homely, like a parent’s house stuck in the Eighties. It’s full of some new, recently purchased items but the rest is old and worn, but like they have a place there always.

There’s two shelves floor to ceiling stuffed with books, a decent looking leather sofa, though beside it was a fabric armchair that looked older than anything else in the room. Brock was sure it had doilies on the arms and at the head rest at some point of its existence. There’s a record player on top of a lacquered side table, a drawing table near the bigger window and a kitchenette with high end cooking pots and pans hanging from a wall rack. There were a few cookbooks leaning against the side of the fridge too, colored page tabs apparently marking favoured recipes. He supposed Jack liked spending a lot of time there, though from the menus stuck to the fridge and the pizza boxes next to the front door, he predicts the guy’s a little too busy to always get to it.

Jack picks up a shirt from off the arm of the couch after shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the back of the door. He balls the stray shirt up and tosses it through an open door leading into a bedroom. “Sorry for the mess, thirsty?”

Brock gets out of his own coat and shakes his head, watching groceries go into the fridge and hyper aware of how weird this is and hopes he gets out of it alive. He quickly texts the address to Bucky, playing it off as a restaurant he wants to go to, his best friend is smart enough to put two and two together if he doesn’t come back home soon. Jack returns a moment later and flips on the television while holding out a spoon and the pint of Peanut Butter Half Baked for him. Netflix appears on screen and he secretly takes another look at Jack when he’s disappeared towards his kitchenette again, namely his ass in those jeans, before supposing if he did get the invitation to ice cream wrong that at least the guy was hot.

His gaze goes back to the TV and it’s then that Brock catches Jack’s list of things he’d been watching. “How many episodes of Stranger Things have ya seen?”

Jack’s clearly surprised when he comes back holding a couple bottles of water. “I just finished season one. It’s actually why I went to the store, I knew I probably wouldn’t once I started.”

Apparently it’s Brock’s lucky day, swiping his thumb across the condensation collecting against the side of the ice cream container and wiggling back against the leather to get comfortable. “Same. Put it on.” 

“Yeah?” Jack lets out. He continues the show and drops down next to him. Brock ignores how nice he smells and works to peel the lid off after getting the plastic wrap seal removed. 

They eat the ice cream while watching TV and things seem to fall into place like any scenario where friends come together and just hang out. The reason he came is long gone when they’re into season three and they’ve moved onto cold beers and popcorn, feet propped up beside one another on the coffee table and somehow Jack’s close enough that Brock can feel the movement of the guy’s shoulders whenever he laughs. It’s nice, comfortable. 

Jack overall seems to have a level of loser in him too like Brock does but in the way he just wants to destress from a busy job then stay home to watch television and eat the same ice cream he does. It’s kind of nice, knowing it’s not only him working through problems this way even if it’s for completely different reasons. He doesn’t even give him weird gestures or lines that indicate he should go, he actually seems to like him here spending time with him, even when they switch from Stranger Things to some reality TV. Jack lets him pick and while it doesn’t seem to be what he watches on the daily, he doesn’t protest as they eventually agree on which people they like and question the ones they’re not so sold on.

It takes another hour before Brock’s stomach gurgles for something more than the pepperoni sticks Jack’s offered up a little after and he sheepishly apologizes for it, taking the interruption as a cue to leave. Jack only gets up and looks thoughtful with a gesture to hold on.

“Keep watching the show, I got something to help that stomach of yours.”

He doesn’t answer, watching him head for the kitchen and while they’ve been having a decent time binging on reality television, Brock didn’t want to find out it was all a ruse to roofie a pizza or something. He waits until plates rattle and something goes in the microwave, Jack’s head back in the fridge for something else and Brock’s approaching the small space casually. 

“What’s on the menu?” It definitely doesn’t smell bad, his stomach groaning louder than earlier.

Jack looks over his shoulder with a smirk, handing him a new beer and opening one for himself. “I cooked a roast last night, figured you wouldn’t mind that instead of snacks.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t.” Brock admits, watching him go back to the microwave when it chimes and getting his beer open. 

“There’s some potatoes, steamed broccoli- ” He points to the middle of the island counter behind him. “I have some dinner rolls in that plastic bag with the bread if you want it. Gravy, oh and stuffing.”

Brock drops down on one of the two stools parked next to each other beside the counter as Jack rests the plate of food before him. “Great! What was the occasion?”

“What?” Jack asks, distracted while his head’s back in the fridge.

“The food.” Brock picked up the knife and fork sitting close by, it really did smell amazing. “Seems like a Sunday meal, not somethin’ close to the weekend, unless there’s some special occasion.”

Jack comes back with a small tub of butter that slides across the surface and bumps lightly against the bread bag and gives him a shrug. “I was just bored, that’s all.”

Brock hums in understanding despite thinking about how sad that sounds. There’s a lot of food on his plate and easily he could polish it off sure but it still dug at him that Jack made a full meal for just himself and he didn’t seem to have eating problems. 

He pushes it aside and flashes a smile before digging in. He may have died because the first few bites are amazing and he can’t get over how good everything is. He lets out a low groan, fully aware Jack’s watching for a reaction but he doesn’t care, it’s just really fucking good. He can hear him laughing and Brock sighed happily as he let his eyes close in bliss, mouth full.

“You seem like you’re liking it.”

Swallowing down the food, he turns to give Jack a dirty look. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? This is amazin’! Steve can’t boil water and Buck, yeah he can cook alright but I jus always feel bad takin’ food from them. Yanno? I usually jus order out a lot and exercise longer in the gym.”

“And also weasel yourself into stranger’s homes for a pint of specialty ice cream and their leftovers.” Jack adds on but he’s smiling as he butters a dinner roll and places it on a sheet of paper towel before sliding it over. “I’m an architect so sometimes deadlines don’t let me have downtime. I’m glad there’s someone around to try out the food and watch television with me, even if it’s sometimes terrible.” He stops in thought before continuing. “You’ve actually been the best part of my day to be honest.”

Brock immediately drops his head down as he struggles to smother a smile because that was kinda nice even if they just met, Jack walking back into the living room to pick up the scraps of garbage they’d been leaving around. 

He finishes up and slips his plate in the sink before he approaches the couch with his hands shoved into pockets as Jack’s watching two of the girls fighting over the telephone sign up sheet.

“I kinda have, haven’t I?” 

Jack raises his head up to look his way and Brock winces with a helpless shrug, pressing his arms against his sides nervously. He’s never really mentioned Mike to anyone outside of his close friends but maybe that’s been one of the issues he needs to deal with. Talking shit out was good, wasn’t it? At least a little, makes you feel a little less weighed down or something? 

He’s unsure but if Jack’s admitting something, maybe he should too, he was nice enough to offer the ice cream up. “I had a boyfriend, Mike. A real piece of work. Kicked me outta our apartment the last time I went to the hospital. Luckily my friends told me they got a place fer me. I never looked back, never tried to return and that was about two weeks ago. Now he texts me and wants to hook up and I jus, I needed to get out before I did somethin’ stupid..” 

Brock didn’t want to say  _ why _ he went to the hospital, it was too much for a first visit.

Jack stares at him for a long moment, it’s the same expression on his face that he had momentarily when they first stood under bright pot lights instead of the dim parkade at the supermarket. It’s the same expression Bucky gives him when he’s checking out his fading bruises to see if they’re okay, Jack knew. 

“Sounds like a real asshole.” Jack says suddenly then turns back to the TV to watch someone screaming about their hairbrush being in the toilet. “Glad you found something to do.”

“Yeah.” Brock exhales, not even knowing why he was holding his breath. “Yeah.” 

He drops down beside him on the couch and they pick up where they left off, Jack never brings it up and Brock’s glad he was something happy in someone’s life.

*****

Brock wakes up back at Steve and Bucky’s and steps out of the spare room just to be manhandled by Bucky who seems to have been lying in wait to ambush him. He struggles to get his body out of hands holding him still and gives his friend a shove. “Cut it out!”

“Did you go back to see Mike, was that what the body address was for?”

He pulls back again and this time Bucky’s satisfied enough to let go and Brock bats a hand at his arm just for good measure. “What? No. Why the hell would I go there?” He is a little pleased though that Bucky knew what the address was for immediately.

“You didn’t come home last night until early in the morning. I thought maybe you went to see him and didn’t want us to know but left the address just in case and then you showed up late, I know you’re an adult and can make your own choices Brock but, I worry.”

Rolling his eyes, Brock shoves past him to go into the bathroom and fishes for his toothbrush in the drawer. “I appreciate it, _Ma_. If ya must know, I went to the grocery store.”

Bucky leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest. “They got supermarkets open at 2am now?”

“Ha-ha, Asshole. I went to get ice cream and ran into some guy who grabbed the last pint of B&J’s and I tried to get it off ‘im. He said we could share it at his place.”

There’s a look of astonishment across Bucky’s face, that expression Brock doesn’t much like until he realizes how that sounds. 

“So you slept with some random guy you met in the supermarket for some ice cream?”

Brock shakes his head and goes to run his toothbrush under the water before he takes his time to brush, Bucky clearly waiting for an explanation like an overbearing parent. He’s sure if he said he wanted to take a piss his friend would just stand and talk through the doorway wanting the details.

Once his mouth was minty and fresh and he gargled back some mouthwash, Brock turned himself to face Bucky, resting his hip against the counter edge. “For yer information, no, _asshole_ , I didn’t go ‘ave sex with some random guy from the supermarket. We binge watched some reality TV, some Stranger Things and jus hung out, that’s it.”

The dubious look Bucky gives him speaks loud and clear, he doesn’t believe him but lets it go. “Well, was he hot at least?” 

They both make their way to the kitchen downstairs and Steve looks up from the newspaper, his cup of coffee paused before his mouth. “Who’s hot?”

Hopping up on the counter, Bucky grins, excited to share gossip about him. “Brock hooked up with some guy in the freezer section at the supermarket!” 

There’s a comical moment where Steve struggles not to spit up his coffee all over the paper. “He, _what_?”

Shaking his head, Brock grabs a mug and pours himself some coffee because he really needs this if he has to deal with the both of them at once. “I didn’t ‘ave sex with the guy, how many times I gotta tell ya? We watched Netflix and chilled, and not like that. Ain’t no touchin’, no nothin’.” And because he did like dishing about guys he thought were attractive, he nods to Bucky. “And yeah, he was really hot. Lonely but nice, cooks real swell too.”

He doesn’t miss the way Bucky smiles at Steve and Steve smiles back at him with this look they both have when they’re plotting without words, it’s just too weird with them sometimes.

“Are you going to hang out with him again?” Bucky asks, too hopeful. He’s a dork but he’s always been supportive in getting him away from Mike. Brock appreciates it more than he knows.

He shrugs because he’s not sure. They exchanged numbers before he left but never offered up anything, just that he’d text him sometime soon. It seemed to be enough for Jack and they said their goodbyes before he headed on home. 

“It’s nice to meet someone you get along with that’s not us, it must be a positive change to get out of the house.” Steve offers, diplomatic as ever.

He smiles and nods in agreement to him before reaching for one of the bagels laid out on a plate. “Yeah, maybe. We’ll see.”

*****

It turns out that maybe Brock did want to spend some time outside of the house. He’s in front of the supermarket freezer, the shelf restocked with his favorite ice cream and for a moment he thinks Jack will pop up out of nowhere and make a joke about how many he plans to buy before he gets a chance at it. 

He doesn’t appear out of magic but Brock keeps him in mind as he grabs three pints, checks his watch and pays at the till. In his car he turns the opposite direction of Bucky and Steve’s place and returns back to Jack’s. The goal is to pay him back for the courtesy and not to strike up something romantic like he knows Bucky was indicating via impressive eyebrow gestures and that annoying smirk he has.

He parks on the side street and carries his bag to the front lobby door searching for the apartment number until finally he finds 305 with ‘Rollins’ taped beside it, he presses the buzzer, impatiently waiting.

There’s a long delay where Brock comes to realize that maybe Jack’s at work or he’s out but finally he gets a curious  _ yes? _ and Brock quickly turns to hit the intercom. “Uh hey, it’s Brock. Was jus passin’ by and thought I’d say hi. Brought somethin’ fer ya.” 

“Brock? Sure, come on up.”

He’s buzzed in and Brock might feel a little bit of a spring in his step, heading up to the third floor. 

Jack’s there when he exits the elevator; he looks surprised and Brock internally hopes he wasn’t being creepy just showing up without any announcement. He holds up the plastic bag to buffer things, he’s just here to pay him back and then he can leave, no worries.

“Is that ice cream?”

He grins. “Yep, they restocked when I went to grab somethin’ else and figured I could pay ya back for the previous offer.” 

Jack’s expression softens and he pushes his door open to invite him in. “I see there’s more than one, would you like to come in?” 

“I grabbed one fer myself but I don’t wanna bother ya. Jus thought about droppin’ em off if you were ‘ome.” 

“I was working on some retouches for an upcoming project but I needed a break anyway. Take a load off, have some ice cream.” 

“Yeah?” Brock asks, already stepping inside as Jack nodded with a smirk, heading to the kitchen to pop the third container of ice cream into the freezer, leaving the other two on the counter while he fished for some spoons. “Guess I could hang out for a little bit if ya really don’t mind.”

“I don’t.” Jack shoots back immediately and Brock accepts one of the pints and a spoon, dropping down on the couch like it was second nature already. Jack sits down and gives him a smile before picking up the remote. “Thank you for the ice cream. I’m glad you dropped by.” 

Brock could feel his ears burning, jamming his spoon into his ice cream to refocus his attention. Whenever he’d bring Mike something, there would be some kind of nitpick over it or its cost and Brock always felt like it was absolutely his fault for not checking with him first. 

Just getting a simple thank you? That was really nice.

*****

“Hey Brock.” Jack says so easily over the phone and it makes Brock smile a little. They’ve barely known each other for a couple of weeks but he feels like an old friend already.

“Hey, I was wondering if- ” He stops when there’s the sound of a kid giggling in the background. There’s a weird pang of panic he doesn’t get. “You babysittin’ or somethin’?”

“Actually, I am. My cousin just moved upstate for work, and I promised I would take my nephew out for a day since she’s still transitioning daycare..and before you decide to correct me, yeah I know it’s supposed to be first cousin, once removed or something to that degree. But I don’t mind being uncle Jack instead of whatever complicated thing it is.”

Laughing, Brock nods in understanding. “Sure, whatever works, right? You two got plans then?” He feels a hint of disappointment that he tries his best to bury away.

“Yeah, actually we’re going to the aquarium. You’re free to tag along if you want.”

The sudden invitation threw Brock for a loop and while he wasn’t really much around kids, he felt the urge to agree immediately because it was Jack. “Uh, sure if it’s fine with you two.”

“It’s definitely fine with me, or else I wouldn’t have asked. TJ might be a little shy but he’s great when he warms up. Would you be okay with meeting up in an hour, about 10ish?”

Brock’s hand was already rubbing at the back of his neck as he nods at the phone. “Yeah sure, of course. 10, I’ll see ya both at the ticket counter.”

He heard something that sounded too much like a sigh to not be one and it did something in his chest he couldn’t explain. 

“Great. If you get there before us, don’t worry.” Jack adds. “Sometimes it takes me a few minutes to get everything together from the car for TJ.”

“No problem.”

When they hang up, Brock stares at his phone, unsure of what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

At the aquarium he’s having more feelings of regret after reminding himself in a loop over the look Bucky gave him once he told him where he was heading out to. Sure he didn’t frequent places like this but his best friend didn’t need to point it out did he?

He spies Jack coming from a mile away. He’s taller than the majority of people heading his way and heading out, his soft-looking hair brushed back with sunglasses over his eyes; he wore a pair of dark blue jeans and an ash grey t-shirt. His stoic expression could easily scare a classroom of kids, as well as adults and he’d look out of place if it wasn’t for the young boy he was carrying with one arm, fluffy hair a mess of short, wavy curls which was currently mostly hidden under Jack’s chin.

When they’re closer, Jack breaks out in a smile and Brock gives him a wave when it's clear his other hand is for backpacks with dinosaurs on them.

TJ’s eyes droop a little and Brock immediately realizes something is different about him, even though he can’t actually put his finger on it.

“He has a learning disability.” Jack explains when he finally comes to a stop in lieu of a hello, a protective hand smoothing over his hair. “But it doesn’t slow him down.”

Brock smiles as Jack presses a kiss to TJ’s cheek. It’s stupidly sweet he can’t help himself. 

“Hey TJ, this is my friend Brock, do you want to say hi?”

As predicted, TJ’s too shy, peering curiously with his large grey eyes before he hides his face against Jack’s neck. 

“Sorry.” Jack apologizes but Brock only shrugs in return.

“It ‘appens. I ain’t much around kids either.” He holds up three paper slips. “I got our tickets, we ready?”

“Oh, you didn’t have to buy the tickets, but thank you.” 

Brock beams as he hands a pair over and TJ makes a noise, kicking his feet before Jack sets him down. He looks over at Brock once more and immediately hides behind Jack’s leg while holding tight to his uncle's hand. Brock gets it, he really does and they follow the group ahead of them to the turnstiles.

When they get inside and past all the info banners, they pass a large glass wall with a sign boasting local sea life. 

Brock is startled when someone cries out  _ fish _ so loudly near his ear and realizes it’s TJ, watching him pointing at the tank and Jack picks him up to take right up to the glass and nods. 

“Yeah, there’s fish, TJ. We’re gonna see all of the fish.” 

“Fish!” He pats the glass, both hands pushing against it like he’s calling a dog. “Fish!” He cries out louder, giddy and overexcited, and Jack stops him from doing it a third time by gingerly taking both hands to give them a kiss and reroute his excitement.

“No hitting the glass, sweetheart. It hurts their ears, too loud.”

“Loud?” TJ asks with a curious wonder, eyes roam along Jack’s face as he seems to process it before he turns back to the tank. “Fish.” He says, this time in a low whisper.

He’s treated with a school of fish Brock doesn’t recognize coming up and almost pressing against the glass like they’re looking at the boy. TJ gurgles out a happy cry as he claps his hands and the fish take off just as large fish start to come along. Brock never really saw kids in his life, but Jack with a kid does something for him. 

It’s the exact moment he realizes he has a huge problem.

*****

Bucky’s laid out on the couch reading a book when he gets home and Brock figured it was as good a time as any to air out his concerns.

“Hey Brock.” He says, tucking a bookmark at where he was before pushing himself to sit up. “How was the aquarium?”

Brock gave him a smile, dropping down in the armchair across from him. “It was fine. ‘Ad a real swell time with ‘im and his nephew, figured I’d be a bother if I tagged along to his apartment so I headed back instead.”

“Why?” Bucky’s genuine concern threw Brock off and he seemed to have noticed. “I mean, you’ve been hanging out at his place anyway, what’s the difference today?”

He shrugs. “He’s spendin’ time with his nephew and the kid’s special needs, I figure they should get their family time in and shit.”

“Got bored playing house?”

Brock’s felt his face warm. Fuck. He hated how well Bucky knew him, it was embarrassing; he really needed new friends.

“It’s nothin’, I jus wanted to come back.”

Bucky laughed. “Relax, Brock. I’m just screwing with you. I’m glad to see you going out and you’ve made a friend, it’s good. He seems like a decent guy, I mean anyone’s better than that asshole. I’m glad you finally figured that out.”

“Yeah, thanks asshole.” Brock rolls his eyes before reaching over to lightly punch his arm. “He’s..real nice.”

“Awesome. And you can never have too many friends, right?”

“I don’t think I want him to be a friend.” Brock blurts out all of a sudden, like the pressure bursting off the top of something, the words just spilling out. He frowns, but it was kind of why he’d sat down knowing Bucky would playfully grill him for information.

The sudden realisation of Jack being a whole lot of everything and how much he wanted in on it had sent him into a downward spiral the past hour drive back or so. Jack was all he could think about lately. He was lucky he didn’t break down and admit it right away at the aquarium and he’s pretty sure TJ was the only thing stopping him from doing so. Sure they had something going on but he knew, he was sure, it was way too early in their friendship and if not because of that..Brock really wasn’t equipped to handle a new relationship when the old one still hung over him. Everything was scary, he wanted to be around Jack but how’s he going to do that and not just fucking impulsively kiss him?

Staring at him all this time, Bucky shifts a little closer, just enough that their legs nudge each other. “I can see that big head of yours thinking, what’s up?”

All Brock can do is deflate against the couch. “I’m a fuckin’ mess, Buck.”

There’s processing and a second’s pause, then. “Oh.”

“Yeah, fuckin’ _oh_.”

“But, that’s awesome too, right? Have you talked to him about it?”

He presses his hands against his face, attempting to smother the hysterical laughter fighting to get out. “Are ya serious right now? Oh yeah, hey by the way, I’m a fuckin’ pussy who was in an abusive relationship fer years even though I coulda kicked his ass two ways to Sunday if I fuckin’ fought back. And m’still gettin’ nightmares about bein’ stuck in that house and never gettin’ out. Yeah so lemmie kiss ya but we can’t do nothin’ serious ‘sides that ‘cause yer a stable guy and I’m a goddamn trainwreck who’s gonna think every loud noise or the raise of yer voice in my vicinity triggers me into thinkin’ I’m doin’ everythin’ wrong!” 

“Brock.” Bucky cut in sternly, but his hand rests on his thigh, thumb rubbing in small circles. “Breathe.”

“He don’t deserve someone like me, he deserves someone decent.”

“And you deserve the same thing, so tough shit. You can’t be worried about your past, even if it’s still fresh. If you like him and he likes you, you gotta take a chance. What’re you gonna do if you don’t? You can’t live your entire life alone, can ya?”

The stubborn part of Brock is willing to try, just to avoid embarrassing himself or making it worse if Jack does something he doesn’t mean but maybe ends up scaring him into seeing Mike in his actions and he bails out. He should get a dog, they love you even when you’re garbage. They especially love garbage.

“Brock.”

“I know, yer right. But, he’s jus there bein’ himself. I don’t wanna mess this up, Buck. He’s becomin’ real important to me.”

“You’ve gotta tell him that. Not me. It doesn’t have to be your feelings but you have to come clean if you want him to get to know you better.”

“Yeah, I know.” Brock sighs, a hand rubbing at his jaw. “I jus, if he doesn’t take it right, I dunno- ”

“I’ll storm over to his place and punch him in the face.”

He sharply turns to him, glaring. “No ya fuckin’ won’t.”

“Fine, I’ll pay Thor to do it for me.”

He knew that was his cue to get out of there and go take a shower before Bucky actually did start to plan some kind of attack on standby. “Go back to readin’ yer damn story.”

“Bye, Brock.” Bucky grins, too wide. “Good luck with opening up to him.”

He flipped his best friend the finger over his shoulder just for good measure.

*****

Brock tries his best to pretend he’s busy all of the next day especially when it turns out Jack’s babysitting duties extended for another day for some reason, but Jack’s been texting him all day about how great it's been to catch up with his nephew and sending him pictures with small hints he should drop by. He didn’t want to be an asshole either so maybe he could drop by and say hi. It would have been just for a few minutes, that’s it. He waited until Bucky had left for the store so he wouldn’t get any kind of look from him or stupid encouragement and headed over to Jack’s apartment.

Standing in front of Master Chow’s, he didn’t let himself think too much about what it meant that they already shared a favourite takeout place. It was fine. They were just friends with a lot in common. Really. Good. Friends.

Jack buzzes him in and waits in the frame of his front door with TJ in his arms and a warm smile. They swap takeout for TJ, the boy greeting him with a cheery smile despite a pacifier in his mouth and patting his face softly in what he assumes was his way of saying hi. Definitely different from yesterday, the stuffed shark he bought him tucked securely to his side with his other arm. 

It takes a good few minutes to realize he’s actually holding a child while Jack got the food ready and then they both collapse on the couch, takeout containers in their hands, legs pressed together and Snow White playing on the television. Brock doesn’t read anything else into it. Definitely not.

He stops daydreaming when TJ struggles in his arms with a soft whine, hand reaching out for Jack’s beef and broccoli and Jack makes a noise of surprise.

“Sorry Brock.” He puts the food on the coffee table, pulls the boy on his lap before removing his pacifier and grabs the takeout again to feed TJ a small piece of broccoli. “I didn’t mean to leave him with you.”

“S’fine. As long as he ain’t cryin’ over it, I didn’t mind.”

Jack lightly pushes TJ’s hand from reaching in to get more broccoli, feeding him another floret and holding the container away as Brock watched them in amusement, taking a bite of his noodles. “Nah, he likes you. He keeps bringing me the shark and shaking it at me. I’m pretty sure it’s his way of asking where you were.”

Feeling his ears warm, Brock looks away and focuses on the movie. Jack didn’t seem to notice, stealing one of the paper plates to rest over TJ’s lap and place an eggroll on it, a little bit more broccoli as well as some beef and a small bit of brown rice. He tucks a plastic spoon on the plate for him to use and continues to hold him on his lap, watching the toddler take a curious bite of the eggroll before he relaxes and begins to eat.

“Thanks again for bringing over dinner, you really didn’t have to but it was great of you to.” Jack said, stealing a piece of spicy fried squid. “It’s been..different with this one around. You always have to be on high alert to make sure he’s not getting into anything and keeping him entertained.”

“You doin’ okay though?”

“Yeah, it’s good to see him.” Jack looks down, lightly nudging TJ. “Right TJ? You like visiting uncle Jack?”

TJ peers up, mouth full of food and sauce around his mouth, the rice on his spoon spilled over the front of his shirt. “Unl ‘ack!”

Brock can’t help laughing and TJ looks at him before joining in.

“Kiddo, that’s your third top.” Jack pretends to complain. “Now I get why you’re packed for a week.”

TJ only blinks up at him, eyes going a little cross as he tries to make out Jack from overhead before going back to the eggroll he was holding on tightly to. Jack flashed Brock a smile before pressing a kiss onto the head of loose, wavy curls, and going back to his food. Something in Brock feels like it comes undone, he’s not exactly sure what it means though.

When they’re finished, Brock offers to clean up while Jack goes to get TJ ready for bed. He had some time to play or enjoy a movie but Jack figured it was best to get him into pajamas now rather than later. Brock sat in the middle of the couch, his legs stretched out and the food tucked away in the fridge just as Jack sets TJ down on a blanket on the floor and immediately the boy goes after the large colorful blocks waiting for him there.

Jack dropped down next to him, defeatedly slumped into Brock’s side and Brock momentarily holds himself still as if Jack might be spooked if he made a sudden movement and pulled away. He immediately realized how pathetic it was to want that contact so much.

“I don’t know about kids, Brock.”

“Hmm?” Brock kept his eyes focused on the Disney movie.

TJ seemed to have radar with knowing when he was being talked about, even when it wasn’t directly about him. He crawled towards Jack’s legs, dragging his shark along and a stuffed wolf as well and big pale blue-grey eyes was all it took for Jack to collect him back onto his lap. There was a soft throw against the couch arm and Jack tugged it over, draping all three of them as TJ parked a thumb in his mouth and settled in to watch the ending.

“I think yer doin’ fine.” Brock assures him. “Whenever you decide to, you’ll get the hang of it quick, m’sure.”

Under the cover of the blanket, Jack tapped his foot against Brock’s and gave him a smile. “Thanks, Brock.”

He watches Jack shift his focus back towards the movie, TJ’s eyes glued on the screen but a chubby little hand idly reaches up to stroke at Jack’s scruff like it was an inherent need of comfort for him. Jack dips his head down and lightly grabs at fingers with his lips tucked over his teeth, receiving soft giggles over it. A strand of Jack’s hair fell forward as he leaned further to smile at TJ before going back to the movie. Brock wants to reach out and brush it back, let his fingers linger against his face and trace all the finer details he had, especially that scar he’d continuously wanted to trace out.

It was then that Brock realised he had much deeper feelings than he originally thought he did and he couldn’t believe it.

He’s not sure when he falls asleep, but the next thing he knows, Jack’s waking him up gently while TJ is out cold. 

“I musta passed out, sorry. What time is it?”

Jack chuckled, pulling himself up off the couch to gather his nephew in his arms. “It’s perfectly fine, it’s only about nine. I started falling asleep too.”

The realization that Jack was getting the kid ready for bed dawns on him hard and he hastily pulls the throw from off his lap to stand. He stumbles a little and Jack rests a hand at his shoulder to steady him.

“I should get goin’.”

“Are you sure?” Jack asked. “You almost took a nosedive into my coffee table.”

Brock waves him off. “M’fine, just calibratin’.”

Bracing TJ against his chest, Jack goes into his fridge and grabs a bottle of water. “Do me a favor and drink this first.” 

Giving him a dirty look, Brock doesn’t argue about it and drinks the cool water with his eyes locked on Jack. Relief seemed to ebb the more he drank and when the bottle was empty, Brock smirks proudly. “Anythin’ else I gotta do before I can leave?”

“No, that’s it for now.” Jack throws back and Brock shakes his head at him. 

Slipping on his shoes, Jack held open the door for him and he was ready to leave when a hand rested on his shoulder.

“Hey Brock?”

He paused, turning back towards the apartment. “Yeah?”

It seems like Jack goes to say something but then TJ shifts against him and makes a soft whining noise which stops whatever he wanted to say. “Nevermind, I should get him to bed.”

A yawn fought to escape and Brock wasn’t in the mood for more water, or lingering when clearly his body was done for the day. He only gives a quick nod and steps out into the hall, rummaging through his jacket for his keys. “Goodnight.”

Jack smiles. He looks good with his nephew cradled against his chest like he was. “You too, text me when you get home. Okay?”

“Sure.” Brock replies. He tucks his hands in his jeans pocket and swiftly heads for the elevator. 

He wasn’t sure if this was more than a full blown crush anymore and that realization was terrifying.

*****

Four weeks come and go and Brock feels better about himself. Better about a lot of things actually. He’s feeding himself much better than he was before, and he doesn’t feel like a burden to his friends now that he insisted and was allowed to pay rent. He’s ignored calls with Mike, to the point he ignores any call from unknown numbers. On random occasions there’ve been calls to Bucky’s cell but they generally lead to hang ups and calling the number back sends them to a disconnection message. Mainly though, it’s been quiet the past four days and he wonders if finally he can just breathe and live his life in peace.

Everyone’s been supportive, especially Jack. Jack is..a lot of things for Brock and he tries his best not to put a huge expectation on him because of their blossoming friendship..among other feelings He’s new and shiny still, it’s easy to talk to and while he knows there’s been some serious issues, Brock’s just afraid of airing out too much laundry because he tends to when he’s especially passionate about voicing his anger. It’s a struggle to balance opening up so he’s not defensive and trying not to scare Jack off. He likes him, a lot..he’d rather not lose him.

It’s of course then that he gets another call from an unknown caller and Brock’s tired of the games. This time around, he answers it.

*****

It’s been a few hours and he’s miserable. The rain feels like it’s bleeding into every pore of his body causing him to shiver. When he gets his chance he’s inside the building but it’s no better inside than out and he’s mindlessly taking the elevator, a familiar press of buttons and automatic movements lead him to a door and he knocks before he talks himself out of it. 

There’s movement, and shuffling, that tightness in Brock’s chest bringing in more pain than the bruises throbbing against his skin, the tips of his fingers inflamed and his body feels like it’s itching to burn alight, by what he’s unsure.

Jack’s expression from confusion, to recognition to shock all happens in a blink and Brock opens his mouth though nothing comes out. 

“What happened?”

“I- ” He starts to explain but thinking of words was difficult. Maybe there’s a concussion and he should have gone to the hospital. He’s not sure. “Buck can’t see me like this. He’ll fuckin’ murder ‘im. I- I can usually talk ‘im down, ain’t worth the prison time jus- jus to try and fix it I tell ‘im but I- he won’t back down this time and I know I’m fuckin’ stupid and I jus keep fallin’ in I don’t get it- ” His eyes dart around the hall as his voice pitches into hysterics and Jack grabs him firmly by the arms and guides him inside.

“You’re shivering, do you know that? Do you know where you are, Brock? Do you need an ambulance?”

“Can’t tell Buck.” He rambles and gets sat down on the couch. His shirt is ruined, blood slowly dripping down it and he can’t tell where it’s all coming from. “Ain’t gonna let ‘im go to jail for my stupid shit- ”

“Not if I get there first.” Brock hears him mutter but doesn’t call him out on it. “You need to get that stuff off and into warm clothes.” Jack hastily disappears and then he’s back, first aid kit under his arm, a blanket and some clothes. It feels nice, Jack being like this. He fumbles with his fingers trying to undo the buttons of his shirt and Jack steps in after he puts the things down on the coffee table. “Can I help you?”

He nods dumbly and Jack is gentle with it, but he’s fast. Buttons coming undone in seconds and he’s helped out of it. He turns him around and looks him over. 

“Your back is scraped up but it’s not too bad.” There’s a warm cloth dabbing at his shoulder blade and he shivers a little. “..Sorry.” 

Jack helps him with his jeans and he needs him for support to stay upright, the weight bugs him and when he’s in baggy sweatpants and a soft well worn t-shirt it just feels so much better. The blanket drapes around his shoulders and his fingers feel out the fluffiness though now it’s streaked red. “Oh no. Don’t tell Buck any of this.”

“It’s fine, I won’t tell Buck. I don’t even know him. Don’t worry, but I don’t know if you need me to call an ambulance. Brock, help me out here.” 

“No ambulance.” He hears himself murmur as he’s guided to sit down before dropping his head back in relief that Bucky wouldn’t find out. “I jus need a nap.”

“No naps, stay with me. Keep talking. What happened?”

That elicits a bitter laugh. “What always happens when he thinks I’m cheatin’! Ain’t even his anymore, the asshole. Shoulda kicked his ass, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jack agrees and Brock can feel him lightly dabbling at the cut across his bottom lip. “Should have stabbed him in the dick too, everyone would be happy for you.”

The snort that comes out startles Brock even if he’s the one that makes it, the warm washcloth drawing down the side of his face and it’s nice, he leans into it a little. “I don’t know why I keep lettin’ him in, we were jus talkin’..”

“Maybe it’s not my place but, you really need to cut this guy out. Change your number, start anew. This, all this isn’t normal. We’re not going to ignore the fact that there’s bruises blooming around your neck, hand sized ones. You’re not his punching bag.”

“Aw, that’s mighty nice of ya to say Jackie.” He smiles but he knows with the pain it comes out in a grimace. His head’s pounding.

“I mean it, Brock. You’re lucky this cut at the side of your head is shallow or I’d force you to go to the hospital. How’s the rest of you?”

“He’s handed out a fractured tibia, broken wrist, fingers, ribs, black eyes, broken nose, and a dislocated shoulder in our relationship, this ain’t nothin’. Fix me up doc, m’fine.” The sigh Jack gives back in return sobers him up a little, focusing his gaze at his face and giving him a tired smile as he grips at Jack’s bicep. “M’fine, really. Jus covered in bumps and bruises, they’ll heal. I jus need to get cleaned up and Buck’ll think I was in a brawl at the neighborhood bar, no trouble.” He shakes his head to himself, his voice lowering. “It hurts more inside than out.”

“Why’d he get mad this time?”

Shrugging immediately, Jack frowns harder and Brock blows out a huff of air. “Fine then. I didn’t meanta, I wanted to make it clear he can’t call no more and that I’ll get an order out on ‘im fer that. But I jus thought hey, we’re talkin’ calmly, so maybe we could open up and I told ‘im it’s funny how shit goes sometimes. He asked what I meant and I told ‘im about the whole supermarket crap, and that you ain’t no weirdo like I first thought..maybe I wanted to get ‘im jealous even though ain’t nothin’ goin’ on between us.” He sighs at the afterthought of how gears shifted and Mike clenched his jaw while encouraging him to keep going. There were so many red flags that told him to get outta there. He’d even daydreamed about how he’d fight him back if it happened again and instead he just froze in shock instead. “I guess it worked. I can’t believe myself, fuckers like that don’t change and there I was, on the floor and surprised like this was all somethin’ new. I’m a fuckin’ idiot.” 

“No, you’re not. You were hoping someone you cared about was going to see what they were doing was wrong. It’s human nature to want to hold on to something you once had.” 

Collapsing into himself, Brock shrugged again. “I don’t even care about ‘im no more, not like that at least jus wish he’d stop..but I guess yer right. Was hopin’ for somethin’ to change, maybe that he’d turn over a new leaf or whatever once I was gone. Instead he was a prick like he’s always been.” He flinches at the alcohol soaked swab pressing gently to the cut across his cheek and Jack mumbles an apology.

Brock let his eyes open more instead of keeping them half lidded in hopes he could rest out by laying out soon. He had more time to stare at Jack like this anyway, his green eyes darker than the first day they met, though still soft. He’s always been ruggedly handsome but this close, it just feels overwhelming, his gaze taking in every chiseled feature and gentle laugh lines. He reaches out before he’s realizing because Brock’s terrible at quieting his impulses which is what gets him into most of his messes. 

Jack understandably freezes when Brock cups his cheek, his heavy stubble feeling smooth across his brush of fingertips and he’s too distracted to pull away, his thumb feeling along the hair above his lips. 

“Brock.” Jack takes a hand over his and gently pulls away, and Brock glances down at anything but him realizing his stupidity, embarrassment flooding in.

“Sorry. I dunno what I’m doin’, I jus- ”

Jack hushes him, resting his hand back down against his lap and picking up where he left off. “Just focus on feeling better.”

The nod he gives back is automatic, shame kicking in with his embarrassment and he can’t control how pathetic he feels, avoiding any eye contact and fighting back the urge to get as far away as he could and never show his face again. 

The soft washcloth brushes through the side of his head again, meticulous and slow, it’s like torture but Jack’s thorough; he eventually moves down onto his knees before him and works on Brock’s split knuckles and cut up fingers. “You fought back a little, can’t say you didn’t try.”

Sucking in a breath, Brock shakes his head. “I fell on glass, shredded my hands all over it and had to get ‘im off me before there was a chance a piece got stabbed into my throat or some shit.” He choked out a laugh that sounded too much like a sob in his ears. “I work at a fuckin’ security company with two of my best friends. I’m good at my goddamn job and I sure know how to defend my damn self but there I was, on the floor beggin’ ‘im to stop and then I go make a pass at ya. I can’t figure out fer the life of me what the fuck I’m thinkin’ right now or why you ain’t thrown me out yet.”

Sighing out tiredly, Jack cups his hand carefully as he keeps cleaning the blood off. “Why? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the past few weeks have been great, Brock. Maybe you don’t think so, but I like spending time with you. We have a lot of things in common, it’s like breathing in fresh air. It’s really damn nice to connect with someone who’s not at work, or family or someone at the bar trying to see if you’re interested in a one-nighter.” He shakes his head absently. “Call me weird but, I don’t mind just sitting around and not trying to impress someone, it’s nice just feeling comfortable.”

Brock swallows thickly as Jack looks up at him, a wild look of stubbornness in his eyes that he can’t look away from. “Me too, you make me feel normal. Like I don’t gotta act okay if I don’t feel like it..”

Jack tilts his head sympathetically, his swipes across the length of his fingers so gentle and he looks down momentarily as he slips a bit of the blanket back to check his arms. There’s bruises blooming there and coming out ugly and terrible but nothing that needed anything more than time. He keeps his head down to grab some bandages from the first aid kit he’d pulled over. “I wasn’t sure you’d come back home with me, I kept thinking I sounded like some kind of Grindr story you read on the Internet and then the closer we got to my place, the more I was willing to go ahead with it if you were into that. I was happy with what we did do, still do. I consider you a friend of mine, like we’ve been one for years.”

“Me- ” Brock starts but Jack gives him a sharp look that instantly makes him stop.

“I wanted to ask you out that night, but I didn’t after you told me about your ex. I knew it was a bad time and I wasn’t going to screw up a new friendship by complicating it or making it awkward. I had no idea if you felt anything like that about me, so I just left it alone.”

He goes quiet after that and drops his head forward to focus on what he’s doing before putting everything aside and drawing a breath of relief. “Well, I think we’re done.”

*****

Brock wakes with the sunlight across his eyes and a pillow under his head. He’s got a blanket tucked around him securely and despite the blinding light he has a momentary feeling of safety before he feels the sting of his skin and how different parts of his body ache, especially his face. He also realizes after a long moment that he’s not on Bucky and Steve’s couch but on Jack’s, who at the moment sat perched on a stool with his back to him, working on rolled out schematics, holding a mechanical pencil in hand. The light basked against his skin and black framed glasses perched across his nose. 

“Jack?” His voice sounds like he swallowed some gravel, he brings a shaky hand to his throat and, oh yeah. He forgot about that. He pulls the blanket up to his chin and squirms under the covers.

Jack turns around immediately and studies him, nothing in his eyes says annoyance or he’s a nuisance for showing up and Brock appreciates it, feels something in his chest loosen. “Hey. How are you feeling? Hungry?”

“Like shit and yeah.”

That makes Jack smile and he watches as he gets up from his seat to go to the kitchen after resting those glasses on the pencil tray. He tries following him but one eye is barely willing to open and he feels too tired to care, dropping his head back against the pillow again. He turns to see his clothes neatly folded and stacked on the coffee table, there’s water that he doesn’t remember drinking but it’s half empty within reach of him and a bottle of pain pills. 

“I hope it was okay, but I washed your clothes for you.” Jack comes over with a tray in his hands, a steaming bowl of soup on it and a half finished packet of saltines. “I made some homemade chicken soup, you have a lot of swelling around your face, I figured you’d feel better the less you chewed.”

“Gotta figure out how to stay sittin’ up first.” His back stings in multiple places and it feels greasy. He barely remembers Jack putting ointment on him, the tube familiar in his fragments of recollection. “Gonna be a pain in the ass to get all that gunk off your t-shirt, m’sorry.”

Shrugging and giving him a smile, he sets the tray on the table and guides him to sit. He places himself down next to him and rests the tray over his lap. “I’m not worried about my old t-shirt, just you. How’s your hands?”

In general they’re fine, he takes his time opening and closing them into fists, at first stiff before it becomes easier to flex with them. He’ll just have to eat slow and take his time, at least the soup looks good. 

“Here, I got an idea. If you don’t mind it?” 

He makes a noise of confusion and Jack reaches over to pick up the soup spoon already in the bowl, gathering a little of everything and scraping it at the edge so it didn’t drip. Brock quickly realizes he’s offering to feed him and he’s a mix of embarrassed and flattered. “You ain’t gotta do that. I ain’t that hurt- ”

“I know.” He murmurs low, spoon approaching Brock’s lips. “Now eat your soup.”

*****

Brock realizes he must have fallen asleep again because the day was suddenly night and some late night talk show’s playing on the television. It’s then that he feels a weight around his waist and that he has his head resting against someone’s chest. Panic suddenly begins to well up in him, the familiarity of the scene overcoming him and if Mike catches him like this there’d be hell to pay. He startles away, a hand striking into the chest before him and there’s a grunt of surprise as he struggles to untangle himself from the blanket. Hands roughly grab at his arms and he fights frantically before Jack is suddenly just there holding tight to him and calling his name.

“Brock? It’s Jack. You’re safe.” His grip loosened around his arms and slowly Jack began to stroke his hands down them. “You’re okay, we just fell asleep watching movies. I took a day off, remember?” 

Brock blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. “Jack?” His speech was slurred and tired, he remembered they were talking about some movies but not too much after that. He was only here because he made the stupid mistake of letting Mike in again, at least as friends.

“Yeah,” Jack says softly, continuing to pet his arms. “You okay?”

Brock nods a little, his eyes roaming across the apartment. “Shit, Buck’s gonna kill me. I need ta call ‘im.”

Jack’s sheepish expression makes him focus again and he reaches down on the floor to retrieve Brock’s phone. “He called and I answered because he did it a few times and I didn’t want him to worry. I may have told him what happened but that was only because he sounded like he was two seconds from calling the cops on me. We talked for a bit and I can see why he’s your best friend.”

There’s a few missed texts on his phone and way too many missed calls by Buck, and then Steve. There’s one from an unknown number as well and he doesn’t want to dwell on that one for too long. He immediately calls Bucky and the first ring isn’t even complete before it’s answered.

“Brock?”

He closes his eyes, nods a little. “Yeah, Buck. It’s me. Sorry, I’ve been sleepin’ everythin’ off. M’safe, Jack’s taken a day off and he’s really goin’ outta his way.” Brock turns his head to see Jack trying his best to find something on TV and he reaches a hand out, resting it against his, their eyes meeting. “I don’t deserve a friend like ‘im.”

Jack gingerly curls his fingers around his hand and smiles, Bucky huffing a breathy laugh over the call, one that’s 90% glad he isn’t dead and 10% that he thinks Brock is being an idiot over something. He knew that laugh well.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Steve’s been stopping me from leaving the house to either murder someone or go running around New York to look for you. I did call the cops though, I needed some level of satisfaction.”

Brock’s eyes widened owlishly. “You didn’t! Please tell me yer jokin’..”

Bucky was defiant, stubborn when it came right down to it. “I’m not. He fucking hurt you again, fuck him and I hope he gets gang raped in prison- ” There’s some comment said in the background he misses that he knows is from Steve. “No, I won’t take it back! Over my dead body, Steve. If that happened to me you’d fucking Koolaid Man through a damn window you overdramatic punk, so don’t even start talking to me like I’m being a dick.” It’s then that the attention goes back to him again. “The cops saw blood on the door when they went to investigate the call and saw the mess through the window, they had probable cause to go inside or whatever. They know something happened, it took him seconds to break down and admit to assault. They arrested him.”

“Are you sure?” Brock asks nervously, his fingers tighten around Jack’s as he watched closely, concern etched across his face.

“Course I’m sure. Sam and Riley told me.”

Sam, of course, and Riley too. He forgot they were both on the force, Riley just worked front desk administration stuff, and Sam was fairly new but he was from a respectable cop family. If Riley found out about Mike being booked, he’d tell his boyfriend and Sam would get every detail he wanted as long as he asked. There’s been a couple times when he even tried to talk him into reporting Mike but Brock never wanted to deal with all the blowback it may cause and it was embarrassing. He couldn’t be sure they’d convict and that would end up making everything much worse. At least Mike kicking him out of their home was a blessing in disguise he’d always be grateful for.

“Well,” Brock sighs. “Guess we’ll see what happens.”

“Hey, don’t worry about things. This is good, Brock. Get some rest and call me if you need a ride home, Steve can drive your hunk of junk back.”

Dropping his head back, Brock smiles. “If that brick house can even fit in the driver’s seat.”

Bucky laughs. “I’ll talk to you later..and hey?”

“What?” 

“Jack seems like a nice guy.” His friend says after his voice softens exponentially. “He was really worried about your well-being, and asked me if you like soup too. I like him.”

Brock feels his face warm and he knows Jack can’t hear what Bucky’s saying but it’s still said while he’s beside him, Jack continues watching something on TV with his hand still holding onto his. “Yeah Buck, yer right. Bye.” 

He hands the phone back to Jack so he can place it on the table and then gets up, gesturing for Brock to stand. “Come on, the couch isn’t where you should be getting a good night’s rest. I changed the bedsheets and stuff while you were sleeping, you can take the bed and I’ll be on the couch for the night.” 

Looking up at him in astonishment, Brock shook his head. “No, I ain’t takin’ over yer bed. You’ve done enough and hey- !”

Jack wrangled him up onto his feet with amazing strength while trying his best not to hurt him. “Don’t make me pick you up, because I can if you fight this further.”

“Yer an asshole.” He snaps out in defiance while Jack only smiles at him and they walk alongside together to his bedroom. With a look of annoyance, Brock sits down on the mattress. He’s right, it already feels nicer than the couch, his hand lightly feeling out the supple softness of the ash grey bed sheets. Brock knows Jack had these before he even showed up in his life but he can’t help feeling like they were meant for him to enjoy and he’s more inclined to lay back and take in the full experience even if he does feel bad. 

Jack disappears out of the room and comes back with the bottle of pills and more water as well as his phone, placing them all within arm’s reach for him. “You can have two more pills for the night if you want them. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, just yell.”

He turns to leave and Brock feels a further pang of guilt, using a bit of effort to grab at the back of Jack’s shirt and he turns, startled.

“Your couch is nice but..” He yawns lightly. “S’stupid. Jus sleep ‘ere if ya don’t mind sharin’.” 

Jack hesitates and Brock gives his sleeve a gentle tug before he lets go, pulling the blanket up higher against his chin. It takes a moment but Jack relents in the end, changing into some pajama pants and a different t-shirt before climbing in. He lays out flat on his back and keeps himself on his side of the bed, Brock can’t help smiling because Jack seems more and more unreal.

He takes a chance and rolls onto his okay side, ribs protesting quietly, and drops his head against Jack’s chest feeling him tense up slightly. “Is this, okay?” 

Exhaling above his head, Jack nods. “Yeah, Brock. It’s more than okay.” He brings his arm around him and pulls him in closer, Brock pressing himself against Jack’s side, his own arm draping across his stomach.

“Thanks..fer everythin’. I don’t know how m’gonna make it up to ya.”

Fingers lightly brush into his hair, trimmed nails grazing across his scalp and Brock fought to keep down a shiver. “You don’t need to and thank you, for existing.”

It’s been such a long time, too long, that someone’s said something like that to him that wasn’t already a friend of his. He feels his eyes well up and he blinks tears away; he wasn’t a crier and he didn’t want to cry right then either. For once in a long time he didn’t feel like he had to sleep with one eye open, even at Bucky and Steve’s he was restless, worried Mike would show up and demand they let him inside. They wouldn’t, of course, but there was a chance no one was around and maybe Brock answered it. He doesn’t know what he holds over him to get him to still want to talk but he hates it, around Jack though, it’s nice. He’s fine to be himself without ruining things, without looking stupid, an insecurity he’s struggled to brush aside despite knowing it wasn’t him actually being bad it was just a negative nagging he’d been fed.

He’s tired but he lays awake and listens to the beat of Jack’s heart, it’s steady and calms him down further. Coupled with his breathing, he knows exactly when Jack’s asleep and lets himself cuddle in closer to his side, his chest tightening up to how nice it would be if he could be like this with him every night.

*****

They’re both rudely interrupted by Brock’s phone going off before being sent to voicemail and then they’re calling again, rinse and repeat. He groans against something solid and his nose is pressed in, it takes a moment to realize it’s Jack’s chest and his nose now decides to tell him how bad of an idea it is to sleep on his face, his hand tightly clinging to a bunched up bit of Jack’s t-shirt like he never wants to let go. A couple seconds soak in before he realizes Jack’s no better, his arm at some point sweeping him in tighter so Brock was practically straddling one thigh and a hand was cupping his ass. He doesn’t mind so he doesn’t move it yet, wiggling his arm out from under to get at the phone and turn it off. 

Jack grunts lightly before he protests a little and then pauses a moment. Brock watches him as his hand squeezes around his butt and then opens his eyes in slow realization; Brock only gives him an understanding smile, phone still going off and Jack quickly taking his hand away.

“Sorry.”

Brock wants to kiss him, instead he gives him a wink the best he can with his eye banged up and looks down at his phone to see who the hell was calling so early in the morning. 

He immediately sobered up when he realized the number wasn’t anyone he knew, it was local and there was only one caller that would contact him like this. He struggled to hit the red button, to turn it off, had numerous thoughts swirling in his head before Jack sat them up gingerly, turning the bedside lamp on and putting his hand out for it. Brock practically flinched, phone held close to his chest in automatic programming to defend his ex at any cost. 

He looked at Jack apologetically and Jack only nodded for the phone.

The call was transferred to voicemail once more and Brock hoped it was the last attempt. “Ya don’t need to talk to him, he’s probably usin’ his call so I tell ‘em not to press charges.”

His mind dug up that it was a possibility but also what if something was wrong? Something that Mike would need help with and he bites down on his inside cheek in frustration. This person was an asshole, he doesn’t deserve anything from him.

His phone went off again and Brock collapsed into himself with a sigh, Jack’s hand coming out further for the cell. “You’re worth so much more than him, Brock. You deserve to be happy.” 

Jack was right, it was just..hard. With minor reluctance he placed the cell phone into his palm and averted his gaze, feeling a little ashamed over hesitating.

He peers back up when the ringing ceases and Jack suddenly has an expression of stormy calm, lifting the phone to his ear. “Listen closely, you piece of shit, because I’m not going to repeat a word of it again. This is going to be the last time you call this number- ”

“Who the fuck is this?!” Mike’s voice rang through, tinny and immediately angry.

Brock stared in wonder, amazed at the sharp edge to Jack’s voice that he never thought he’d have. His hands nervously tightened around the blanket, a pang of guilt striking him that he was in bed with another man even though it wasn’t like that and they weren’t even together anymore. It made Brock deflate over how much damage had taken over, frustrated at himself.

Jack doesn’t miss a beat in his message. “You’re going to give your keys to someone who will neatly pack every single item in that house that Brock owns into nice clean moving boxes and label them appropriately. You’re going to tell that person to set them out on the back porch and tomorrow morning they’ll be picked up by some movers I’m about to hire. You’ll also buy him out on the property you both own because he’s sure as hell never setting foot in that house again. If you refuse, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever do because the next thing you’ll get is a hole in your head the moment you think you’re safe in your bed. I promise.”

“Jack.” Brock starts, lifting a hand to reach for the phone but Jack leans away.

There’s a pause. “You do know your threat was just recorded, right?” Brock has to strain a bit to hear it but he could, it’s in that tone Mike always uses when he feels like he’s being challenged and wasn’t willing to back down.

Brock watched the way Jack’s throat bobbed, steely gaze unflinching. “Would you like to test out how much I don’t give a shit on if they used it as evidence to prove a murder?”

After a long delay, Brock clamors up to sit next to Jack and listen in on the call, there’s a little interference noise in the background of a busy area but nothing in the immediate space and then Mike is back again.

“He must have really made an impression when he spread his legs for you, but then he’s always been keen if you knew what buttons to push, it takes so little to get him on hands and knees. Brock’s a people pleaser like that, so if I were you I’d keep an eye on that slut or the next thing you know, he’s got his mouth on someone else’s dick and bending over a dumpster in a back alley. I’d know, it’s how we met.” 

The call ended and Brock's hands were already pressing at his ears feeling disgusted and upset. He seized when Jack’s arm went around him and he could feel his cheeks flare in embarrassment. He can’t face Jack anymore, it was impossible.

“Hey. Come on. There’s nothing he could say to me that would change the way I see you. He’d say you’re an alien and I wouldn’t care.”

Brock shakes his head, ashamed over Mike divulging the alley thing. It’s not exactly the truth, but he was drunk and stupid and he wanted to. It’s just, coming out like that, it was disgusting, he was disgusting. 

“Brock.” Jack said softly. He brought his hand forward and gently rested it on his. “I don’t care about anything he said to me. I go by my own experience and form my own opinion, besides..your best friend gave me an amazing run down of what kind of person you are and I trust his judgment more than a guy that thinks beating up a person is the best way to communicate. Okay?”

Brock forces his head to tilt up a little, still hard to look at Jack but he needs to nonetheless. He was right and he shouldn’t shut Jack out for the embarrassing way he acted one night, if he didn’t care. “I don’t always do stuff like that, it jus happened and- ”

“Did you miss the part where I said I don’t care? I’m still going to ask you out on a date no matter what bullshit your ex spews out because it is what it is, bullshit.”

The words caused Brock to look up, blinking at Jack through sore, red-rimmed eyes. “Yeah?”

A smile crosses Jack’s lips, nodding in earnest as he gazes back at him. “Yeah, I mean that..”

Reaching out to thread their fingers together, Brock chews at the inside of his cheek. “Ain’t ya worried he’s gonna to report you for threatenin’ him?”

Shrugging, Jack leans back against the headboard. “I’m not going to take any of it back, no matter what he does with it. I don’t know if he’s going to pack your stuff up or offer you money for your place but I’m going to hope he does. Maybe I should pay him a visit- ”

Brock immediately tightens his fingers around Jack’s, pain shooting through his hand. “You can’t!”

Affronted, Jack’s brow shot up in challenge. “Why not?”

Shaking his head, Brock can’t fathom anything going well if they faced off at the doorstep. “I ain’t riskin’ you gettin’ hurt all because of me. You may have scared ‘im on the phone but in person he’ll try to get you set up like you were trespassin’ and I’m not willin’ to let that happen.” His eyes roam across the bed. “I was handlin’ it.”

Scoffing out a laugh, Jack looks pained as he nods to him. “Yeah. I can see you did. He could have killed you, you don’t get that. Buck told me about why you went to the hospital the last time, that he knocked you around, that you were unconscious and have no idea of what exactly happened. That’s not- ” Jack slips his hand away and makes a fist pressing it into the mattress, clearly fighting to calm himself down. 

“I know I’m just..this guy that you happened to meet. But I’m mad Brock, I’m angry. You’re a strong person, you can stand up for yourself, you’re brash and opinionated. You’re stubborn and have a blue streak if you’re on a roll. You’re something else, a force to be reckoned with when you get lit up..” Jack shakes his head. “It’s so beautiful. All of it makes me attracted to you. When he’s around though, you’re influenced with traits you don’t naturally have and I’m mad someone did that to you because you don’t deserve to be exposed to that.”

The more Jack speaks the calmer he became so Brock lets him, shakily clasping his hands together, the soft light brushing through tints of red in Jack’s hair he hadn’t picked up before.

Jack seems to finally slow down, get into grips with his rant and falls back against the headboard once again. He blows out some air audibly and pushes strands of hair that drops against his forehead. “Sorry. I was so busy being the tough guy in that call, I didn’t know how to expel the anger building up inside me. He just pushed my buttons when he was talking like that about you. I feel like I would have punched him in the face without a moment of hesitation if we were standing and talking to each other. Also a reason I shouldn’t pay him a visit I guess, I might just lose control the moment he opened the door.”

Brock ducks his head, shaking it as he palms his limp hair out of his face. “You’re a sap, you know that?”

“Maybe.” Jack agrees. “But it’s how things go sometimes.”

Brock turns his way and Jack pauses to watch as he brings his hands up. They hover in the space between them before Jack gingerly takes a hold of them for him and all Brock can do is smile. Jack does the same. The quiet lull in their conversation almost calms everything to a place where conflict and worry never seemed to exist.

“If things were different, I think I’d ‘ave met ya first and never woulda turned out like this.”

Jack gave his hands a light squeeze, careful of his wounds. “No, you wouldn’t. But you still met me and you can still have a different life. Nothing’s stopping you from that except yourself, Brock. I’d like to wait for you, if you don’t mind that is.”

Brock lifts a hand up slowly, tucking it at Jack’s jaw. His thumb traces across the faint line of a scar there that’s mostly hidden away from a light layer of facial hair. Jack leans in closer to let him do as he pleases and with a tilt of his head and an arch of his back, Brock’s lips were pressing in against his.

He can feel Jack hesitate, can practically hear the wheels in his head turning a little over if it was okay to return it but he can’t pull away. Soon Jack’s hand cupped at the back of his neck to pull him closer and he went willingly. He‘s so gentle with him, touch so light and it was almost ghosting against his skin, Brock’s other hand tangled into the front of his t-shirt to secure him there. 

Jack’s thundering heart fought against his chest, Brock could feel it against his own, and adrenaline soaked into every fiber of his being. He was experiencing something like one of those stupid scenes in a movie where the characters that were ignorant to each others feelings finally kissed and it was one of the greatest things in the world. There weren’t fireworks or anything but something just clicks, like a knowledge that this was how the story was supposed to go and he finally understands. The swipe of Jack’s tongue across his lips is wary but he opens his mouth for more, the hand at his jaw sliding up into his hair.

It’s Jack who pulls away first, a soft caress of his nose to his own with their foreheads resting together while they caught their breath. “I wanted to kiss you that first night.”

Brock laughs against his lips. “I know, I’m so irresistible.”

Chuckling to that, Jack nods in agreement. “You really are. I was trying to act as casual as I could in the supermarket. Then when you decided to come to my place I worried about keeping your interest, only realized I may have something when we got to Netflix, that and the way you seemed to like dinner.”

Cupping Jack’s face in his hands, Brock smirks. He lets his thumbs trace around his lips idly. “And ‘ere I was, checkin’ ya out before you even started talkin’. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn't help m’self.” 

“I guess we have that in common too.”

“Yeah.” He grins. “I suppose so.”

“Come here.” Jack says eventually, a little flirty and reassuring all at once as he lays back in his bed again.

Brock settles into his arms like he’s been waiting for Jack to ask since the day they met, maybe he has been. He feels oddly like this has been a long time coming, despite meeting Jack on a fluke event and barely knowing him for too long. There's just something about him that makes Brock crave more nights like this. And afternoons. And mornings.

“We’ll get there.” Jack murmurs, like he can already read Brock's mind, his fingers brushing through his hair and making him drowsy again.

Brock wants to tell Jack to stay here with him forever, but he knows it’s a little too fast, too soon. The arm Jack’s cradling around him goes tighter nonetheless and a kiss presses against the back of his skull.

“I promise.”

“Alright.” Brock mumbles, cuddling up against Jack’s long frame and soaking in his radiating body heat. Usually he’s not good with any type of promise that comes his way, but with Jack, he believes him completely.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for "Half-Baked" by Kalika999](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28096671) by [Taste_is_Sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet)




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